Dreams
by Natalie3
Summary: Quatre must decide what's important to him.


Dreams  
A sharp wind blew across the ruins of what must once have been a proud and mighty temple. Now it was a heap of stones with bits of shattered glass between them, and moss beginning to take over what was left. The boy leaned silently against one of the stones, the wind blowing his hair back and making his eyes water. He searched around, his face desperate.  
"Hello?" The wind angrily tore the word from his lips with a roar. There was no response. Quatre sighed. He hadn't really expected one. There was hopelessness in his heart as he resumed his search in the ruins. When he clambered over what might once have been part of the ceiling, he caught sight of a large gray rat. The creature looked up at him and hissed, showing long, sharp teeth.  
"It's all right, I won't harm you," Quatre told it, smiling slightly.  
The rat hissed louder then vanished under a stone. The boy stood up on top of his stone, and surveyed the area around him, listening. At first, all he heard was the roar of the wind, and the soft clicking of nails that told him the rat wasn't far away. Then another, fainter sound met his ears. It was a soft groan, of some creature in pain. He didn't hesitate for a second. With a speed that would have puzzled him at another time, he all but flew over the ruins towards the sound. There! That was where he had heard it coming from. A man's crumpled form was silhouetted against the dark black of one of the stones. Quatre knelt down by him and touched his father's cheek. The dark eyes opened.  
"Quatre," he said softly, slowly and distinctly pronouncing each syllable.  
"I'm here Father." Quatre didn't know what else to say. He never knew what to say to his father.  
"Yes." Bitterness slid into the man's tone. "You're here." He straightened up slightly and added with vehemence "Now, you're here!" He closed his eyes and shook his head. It was almost a minute before he opened them and spoke again. "When I needed you, you were off playing war with your murderous toy, trying to get yourself killed, trying to break my heart. You went going against all that I held dear, destroying the very world I tried to create!"  
"Father-"Quatre tried to protest.  
His father cut him off. "You disappointed me Quatre. You disappoint me still." His eyes closed again and his body slowly lost its resistance and sank against the stone, uncaring now of the sharp stones beneath, and the boy clutching at it's hand. None lie quite so carelessly as the dead.  
Quatre was still on his knees. He didn't bother moving as his father's hand slowly grew cold in his own. He felt like crying. He felt like screaming. He felt like flinging himself down upon the cold stone and smashing his fist against the rock until blood flowed and enough agony filled his body to drive back for one blessed instant the grief that flooded his mind. But he didn't. He knelt in silence, not even able to pray. A slight pain in his finger caught his attention. It was the rat. The creature was obviously starving, and even when Quatre pulled his finger away and gently pushed the rat back with his hand, its eyes remained frantic and hungry. It turned away from him then and dove towards the other possible source of food, with a high keening sound in its throat.  
"No!" Quatre tried to grab the rat's body as it leapt towards the corpse, but its sharp nails pierced his fingers and it scuttled through. Another rat leapt off of the top of the stone and landed on the body, its mouth open to bite. Quatre knocked the first rat off and reached for the second, only to realize that there were more. There must have been hundred of rats, far more than these ruins could have held. All were making that high pitched keening noise and all were hungry. He tried to stop them, but in moments his father's body was just a pile of writhing dark fur and teeth. Then one rat turned its bright beady eyes towards him. Dead flesh was good. Living flesh wasn't as good, but it was still so hungry. The rat leapt. Quatre blocked it with one arm and threw it to the ground, but now the others had gotten the same idea. They began to back away from what was now a skeleton, picked completely clean all the way through. Quatre stumbled back, then turned and began to run with the starving rats right behind. He knew he couldn't keep this pace up. Soon he would grow tired and then it would all be over. He had just realized this, when he tripped over a stone and fell. As the ground leapt up to meet him, he heard the triumphant keen of the rats behind him and he...  
  
...crashed onto the floor. Quatre sat up in a tangle of bed covering and fought to get his bearing. Trowa sat up in the other bed in surprise.  
"Quatre?"  
The other's voice brought him completely back to earth. The panic left him, and the nausea hit. Without answering, he ran into the bathroom that they shared and was terribly sick.   
Trowa glanced at the clock as his stood up. It was 4:20, and felt like it. "Are you all right?" he asked, approaching the bathroom door uncertainly. It opened and Quatre came out looking paler than usual, but calm.  
"Yes, I'm okay. Just a bad dream. I think I won't eat cafeteria food again!" he added, trying to smile.  
"Do you want to tell me about your dream?" Trowa winced inwardly. He still wasn't very good at conversation with others. Quatre was the easiest to talk to, but that led to other problems. Trowa didn't want to get attached to anyone. Not now, not when either of them could be killed. But Quatre was shaking his head.  
"No, that's all right. It's late, and we both need our sleep."  
Trowa frowned. "If you're sure you're okay."  
"I'm sure. Good-night Trowa."  
"Good-night. Wake me if you have another nightmare."  
Despite his many reassurances to Trowa that he was okay, he wasn't certain that he actually was. His heart was still thumping with fear, and the grief from his father's death assailed him once more. Of course, when his father had actually died, he hadn't said anything so awful. So why had his dream father said he was disappointed? Was it his own mind trying to tell him something? Was it some sort of punishment that he was giving himself? But why? Quatre knew himself fairly well. It could be a kind of masochistic reaction, but probably not. His best guess was that it was some sort of subconscious atonement for what he had done. Since the law couldn't punish him, his own mind would. It made a rather sick kind of sense, he supposed. It was with thoughts like these that Quatre drifted back into sleep.  
  
The next morning found him sitting at one of the table in the cafeteria, and trying to make himself eat breakfast. Duo slid into the seat across from him.  
"Are you going to eat that or keep prodding it?" Duo asked.  
Quatre gave one last half-hearted nudge at his scrambled eggs, then gave up. "Do you want this, or should I just put it out of its misery, and throw it away?" He pushed his plate across the table.  
"No thanks."   
"I think I'll just go get some coffee."  
"Okay." Duo did a double take. "Coffee? Not tea? Should I be worried?"  
Quatre laughed and got up. Duo munched his toast and waved across the cafeteria to a friend of his from math. "Leona! Hey!"  
She turned and smiled, then crossed the room to join him. "Hey Duo. Is someone sitting here?"  
"No, go ahead."  
"Are you going to the dance the Friday?" she wanted to know.  
"That depends. Do you have a date?"  
"Not yet," she giggled.  
"Oh good. Would you like to go with me?"  
"I'd love to!"  
Quatre returned and sat down across from them, taking a life-restoring swallow of coffee as he did so.  
"Quatre, have you met Leona? No? Well, it's your loss. She's my date for the dance this Friday. Leona, this is one of my best friends, Quatre."  
"Pleased to meet you," she said.  
"The pleasure is all mine," he replied quietly, then realized they'd probably prefer to talk without him around, and excused himself.   
He felt fully alert now, thanks to the caffeine. If he went to his history class now, he would be twenty-five minutes early, so he decided to explore the school a little instead. The main goal right now was to lay low, not to attract attention, and getting to class almost a half-an-hour early might get him noticed. It couldn't hurt to know his way around a little better anyway, even if they were only going to stay for a week or two. Quatre wandered the halls, finding the library and the teacher's lounge on his way, before coming upon a corridor he wasn't familiar with.  
He almost didn't see the young couple standing in a shadowed doorway, but his life as a soldier had taught him to look for human outlines and sudden movements at all times. It was practically second nature now. They were speaking quietly, but in the silence of the early morning it made no difference. He could hear every word.  
"That's so exciting Peter!" the girl was saying. "Maybe now he'll buy you a car for your birthday! Do you think?"  
"I don't know if his promotion will bring in that much money, but who knows? I think it's more of an honor than anything else. Dad is really happy about it, anyway."  
"I hope it doesn't mean more work. You already don't spend nearly enough time with me." Quatre couldn't see her face, but he could tell that she must have been pouting.  
The boy laughed. "I'm taking you to the dance this Friday, aren't I?"  
"Well...yes, but still!"  
"Actually, that reminds me. We mustn't try to sneak out or anything this time. Dad told me that OZ is sending in some troops that evening."  
Quatre froze. He had been slowly heading back towards the door, planning to leave on what was obviously a personal situation. Now he stopped and listened carefully to the conversation.  
"What? But why? Must it be this Friday?"  
"I know, it's awful timing. But it does make sense. Dad explained it to me like this: Lady Une figures that the Gundam pilots will be hiding out at a boarding school. Also, this one is only three miles away from one of the bigger OZ facilities, you know that."  
"I still don't see why they have to crash our dance!"  
"They won't, I don't think. They're just going to poke around and look for the pilots that night."  
Quatre felt a wave of cold wash over him. He turned and began to walk as silently as he could back towards the hallway, hoping against hope they wouldn't hear him. A quick glance back showed him that they were otherwise engaged with each other. It would take the sound of the bell for first period to rouse them. Once back in the main hall, he glanced around looking for one of the other pilots. None of them were in sight. He had to think quickly. Trowa had a study hall first, didn't he? Quatre had no idea what Duo had now, but he was sure that Heero had a computer course. The only problem was that there were three computer rooms, all on different floors. Quatre started walking towards the nearest with a quick glance at his watch. He only had five minutes before he needed to be in history. He forced his mind back. What had the number been beside the class? Quatre shut his eyes and focused on the moment when Heero had suggested that they all at least be somewhat familiar with each other's schedules so that they could find each other if an emergency occurred. He had put the paper down on the desk. First period, "Computers I," room 145. Quatre breathed a sigh of relief and headed down the stairs. He got there just as Heero appeared around the corner. As the dark eyes fixed on him, Quatre waved slightly.  
"We need to talk," he said quietly.  
Heero only nodded, then glanced around. "Come on," he said brusquely, leading the way into an empty classroom. "What is it Quatre? We don't want to be late."  
Quatre knew exactly what he meant. We don't want to be late; we don't want to be noticed. "I know, but this is important." Quickly, he sketched an outline of what he had overheard from the soldier's son. "They're coming this Friday. Heero, they have our physical descriptions, they might catch us. What do you think we should do?"  
"I'm thinking," Heero replied. He was silent for a moment, then began to speak aloud. "It's bad timing. I was planning on attacking that facility tonight, but that would definitely pinpoint our whereabouts. I don't like doing anything this big without our Gundams close at hand."  
"Well we couldn't exactly park them in the school parking-lot," Quatre replied gently, hoping to lighten the mood. His words fell into an empty silence.  
"I'll tell Duo at lunch," Heero said after an awkward pause. "You tell Trowa third period during math. We'll all meet tonight in Duo and my room after dinner to talk."  
"Right," Quatre replied, but he needn't have bothered. Heero had already left. With a sigh he looked again at his watch and headed for the door. Then froze. There was someone ducking down beside the doorway, behind the desk. Quatre leapt forward, slamming the door and throwing on the lights with one motion. Then he whirled to see who it was. A girl with large brown eyes stared up at him, her face pale with fear.  
"Who are you?" he demanded. Surprise made his voice harsh.  
"Kathleen," she whispered clearly terrified.  
He took a deep breath. How much had she heard? "What were you doing there?"  
"I was looking for my algebra book." She hugged a textbook to her chest.  
"What did you hear?" He prayed that she had heard nothing.  
"Everything," she cried suddenly. "You're the ones! You're the Gundam pilots!" Her body was trembling with fear, but there were no tears in her eyes.  
Quatre leaned against the door. What should he do now? He knew what Heero, Trowa, possibly even Duo, would do. He had a gun in his pocket, and that would obviously be the most effective method of ensuring that she wouldn't tell what she knew, but he also knew that he couldn't do that. It frightened him that it was the first thing to cross his mind. Murder. He had to silence her though, if only for her own safety. If the others found out, they certainly wouldn't have the same moral qualms. He had to do something, fast.  
"Listen," he said, trying to sound as much like Heero as he could. "I don't think you heard or saw anything. I think you just came in here, found your algebra book, and left, don't you agree?" He pulled the gun out and raised it to eye-level. "That's what happened, right?" He flicked the safety off, praying silently: Please understand what I'm saying. Please don't let yourself be killed because you heard things you shouldn't have. Don't make me add another sin onto my already too heavy load.  
She took a step back, then tightened her grip on her math book and nodded. "I didn't hear anything," she whispered.  
"Do you swear to that?" he asked, all the while wondering: What am I doing? I'm endangering all of our lives, and our precious cause. Can I really trust her word?  
"I swear," she said softly. "I didn't see or hear anything."  
The bell rang. They were both late.  
"Then you'd better get to class," Quatre replied, flicking the safety back on with a satisfying click and replacing the gun in his pocket. He stepped back and opened the door for her. As she walked into the hall, he wondered if he had just slit his own throat.  
  
"You see our dilemma, of course," Heero said. It was a few minutes after dinner, and the four of them had gathered as arranged. "We can't leave. It would be too obvious. We don't want to tip them off to our whereabouts. Half of our advantage lies in stealth. If we vanished from the school, OZ would get suspicious, and start searching the surrounding area."  
"So what do we do? Stay and get caught?" Trowa demanded.  
"We agreed not to attract attention. What better place to hide in than a crowd?" Duo asked. "Let's just go to that dance this Friday, and try to blend in. If we see a soldier getting to close, we get out of there!" He put his hands behind his head and tilted back in his chair.  
"You're not speaking objectively. We all know that you love social events," Heero said sternly.  
"And you hate them," Duo retorted "You're not being objective either."  
"If we could return to the business at hand," Trowa said, almost gently. "The question is not who is being objective. The question is what are we going to do about this new threat? Should we wait it out, or run away?"  
"I vote we stay," Duo said.  
"I hate to say it, but I'm with Duo," Quatre said. "Whatever we do though, we all have to do it. One person leaving could give the rest away. One person staying would be one person caught, and one pilot gone. With only five of us total, we just can't afford that kind of loss."  
"I agree," Heero said finally.  
"I believe we ought to stay," Trowa put in from his place against the wall.  
Heero sat down on his bed. "Then we stay," he said. "If one of us is in danger, this is the signal." He whistled three quick notes. "Okay?"  
"Great!" Duo said. He landed his chair and went into the bathroom, grabbing two combs on his way.  
"Trowa, you'd better get back to your room before light's out. I need to talk to Quatre for a minute."  
When Trowa had left, Quatre frowned and sat down on the other bed. "Is something wrong, Heero?" he asked.  
"Trowa said you were having trouble sleeping. Nightmares."  
Quatre looked at his hands. "Only one," he said.  
"If you have another, tell me. I have some medications that can help you."  
"I don't see that it's necessary..."  
"It could interfere with your skills. Fatigue could get you killed. You know that. Like you said, with only five of us, we can't afford to waste lives."  
"We can never afford to waste lives," Quatre whispered.  
"Quatre..."  
The other didn't respond.  
"You don't want to keep your nightmares," Heero said, uncertain of whether it was a statement or a question.  
"I don't want to lose my humanity," Quatre answered.  
There was a second of silence before Heero replied. "And you would rather lose your life?"  
"What's life if you're only surviving, and not living?"  
Heero, a soldier who always survived, was silent for only a moment before asking him, "Do you think there's an obvious answer to be handed to you?"  
Quatre bit his lip but didn't answer.  
"At what point does your fraying raft become only a collection of sticks?" Heero challenged.  
Quatre stood up. "When it ceases to hold you above the water." He turned and headed for the door.  
"Are you sure of that, Quatre?" Heero called.  
The other stopped, and looked back at him, one hand on the doorknob.  
"Maybe it's when the branches stop holding together. Maybe it's when they first begin to drift apart." He crossed his arms. "Will you be the first to drift away?"  
"The branches weren't always together. They had to be brought together and tied with rope and held together that way. If the branches drift, blame the rope, not the branches." As he started for the door again, Heero caught his shoulder.  
"Quatre, whether you're the rope that holds us together, the person who forged us into a craft that could float, or just one more of the branches keeping our cause from drowning, you're too important to lose." Heero released his shoulder abruptly. "Enough with this metaphor. I value your skills as a pilot, a strategist, and a leader, far more than I value your so-called humanity, Quatre. If one of them has to be lost, you know which one I want it to be."  
Quatre turned away and twisted the knob. "That isn't your decision," he replied.  
  
The music was quick and had a rapid beat. Duo was already out on the dance floor with yet another girl. Quatre searched the room for Trowa or Heero, but he couldn't find either of them. He did spot a man with an OZ uniform though. Carefully, he tossed his paper cup into the trashcan and moved onto the dance floor. Even as he approached it though, the song ended and the music changed. This one was slow, more old-fashioned. He needed a partner if he was going to stay there, and he planned to, since the soldier was starting to look at him with a rather suspicious eye. Quatre had a quick look around, and spotted a girl standing by herself at the edge of the crowd. He approached and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned, and he recognized Kathleen. For a moment he considered retreating, but the soldier was still there. There was nothing for it but to ask.  
"Would you like to dance?" When she hesitated he added, "I won't kill you if you say no, you know."  
Realizing he was kidding, she smiled faintly. "Oh, all right, I guess so." Not exactly an enthusiastic reply, but better than he had expected.  
To his relief, she was actually a good dancer, and he was able to keep most of his attention on where the various soldiers were, and to continue looking for Trowa and Heero. She was actually quite a pretty girl, with white, even teeth, long black hair, and huge brown eyes. She didn't seem to be so afraid right now, and was relaxing into the easy rhythm of the music. A spotlight fell on them, and Quatre had to force himself by an act of will not to duck away from the pitiless light. He couldn't draw attention to himself, he just couldn't. The spotlight had been landing on couples all evening, but it had usually moved on after a few seconds. Why was it still here?  
Kathleen suddenly clutched his shoulders tighter. "What have you done to me?" she whispered, her voice shaking. He looked down at her face, and watched in a kind of fascinated horror as the skin began to slide from her face like melting wax. She let go of him, as her fingers began to rot, and sank to floor as her legs fell apart beneath her. "What have you done to me?" she screamed. He stepped back, revolted and shocked. He knew he ought to try to help her, yet he couldn't force himself to go near her disgusting form, now writhing on the floor.  
A hand gripped his shoulder. As he turned, the fingers came loose. Quatre let out a scream of terror and surprise as he came face to face with a rotting corpse. All around him, everyone was a rotting skeleton. He pulled away, back into the circle of light that seemed to hold them at bay, searching desperately for Heero, Trowa, or Duo. He couldn't find any of them, and the circle of light was growing smaller and smaller with each passing second. One of them reached out and touched his arm. He pulled it away, and to his horror felt his own hands soften. The skin on his face seemed to writhe. The corpse grabbed both his shoulders. Quatre tried to pull away, but its grip was like iron...  
  
"Quatre! Wake up Quatre!" Trowa shook his friend harder even as the boy struggled and cried out. Then his eyes opened and stared at him with feverish bewilderment.  
"Trowa?" He held out his hands as though studying them then reached up and touched his face. "It was all a dream," he whispered.  
"Some dream," Trowa answered shakily, sitting down on the bed. "You were screaming like all the demons of hell were after you."  
"They were," Quatre answered. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head back and forth. "Maybe I should take Heero up on his offer of medicine."  
"At least you aren't sick tonight," Trowa said with mock cheerfulness.  
Quatre smiled. "That's true." Then his expression changed to one of guilt and remorse. "I'm sorry I woke you up."  
Trowa looked at the clock. "At least you waited until five tonight."  
"This can't go on. It's one thing for me to say all sorts of fine words about humanity and such. It's another for us both to not be able to get a good night's sleep."  
The other shrugged. "We don't very often, you know."  
"All the more reason why we need to take advantage of the times we can. One more dream, and I'll go talk to Heero."  
"If that's what you want Quatre."  
He sighed and leaned back against the pillows. "It isn't about what we want anymore Trowa. It's about what's needed."  
Trowa stood up. "Go back to sleep if you can. The dance is this evening, and you'll need all the rest you can get. We'll probably leave right after, since there's less chance of our being missed on the weekend. That gives us two days before they start searching."  
"Good idea."  
The other smiled as he lay down. "I'm sure Heero has already thought of it then."  
  
Quatre stood by the punch table and pinched himself for about the fifth time that night. The frightening realness of his dream had unnerved him more than he liked to admit. Duo was the only one of the pilots that night that seemed to actually be having a good time. He was dancing with Leona again, and clearly enjoying every moment of his rare chance to be just a normal student. Trowa had surprised everyone, except perhaps Quatre, by turning out to be one of the best dancers there. Quatre knew that his friend often had surprising and hidden talents. At any rate, he had no shortage of partners. Heero was still not happy about having to attend the 'social event' as he insisted on calling it. The disparaging twist of his lips as he stood leaning against the wall told the world his feelings about dances more clearly than any words could have.   
Quatre couldn't bring himself to leave the punch table. The fear from his dream the night before still hung over him, and he longed for the night to end. As he reached for one of the little paper cups, a small warning went off in his mind. Unwillingly he turned around and looked at the door across the gym.   
The song came to an end just as Lady Une entered the room. She was flanked by three OZ soldiers, but it was the elegant little gun she held at her side that caught his attention. He quickly turned his face towards the table. She might not know him by sight, but why take a chance? From behind him he heard Duo laughing at something Leona had said. Quatre clenched his fists. Oh please be quiet for once Duo. He risked a glance behind him, and saw that Lady Une's eyes were riveted on his friend. She walked now with clear purpose towards him. There was nothing for it. Quatre put two fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply. At the sound, Trowa seemed to materialize out of nowhere at his side. Duo looked away from his date and found himself staring into Lady Une's cold brown eyes. He muttered a short, one-syllable word and turned but not quickly enough. Her gun was out and pointed at him even as he pushed Leona behind him.  
"Don't move," she ordered.  
"Why not?" Duo asked, dodging to the left. The sound of a gunshot rang out. A girl screamed, and Leona crumpled to the floor. Duo fell to his knees beside her, heedless of Quatre's grab for his arm. He knew it was stupid. He knew it would probably just result in his being caught by OZ. He also felt his mind growing numb as her blood poured over his hands. It was so hot. He almost couldn't hear Lady Une as she yelled at the soldier.  
"No shooting! There are too many civilians here! Fool!"  
Quatre was dragging at his shoulders. "You have to get up Duo! Come on!"  
"No! I have to stay with her..." Duo whispered.  
There was sympathy in Quatre's voice as he replied. "You know better than that."  
Duo forced himself to get a grip. There would be time later for guilt and pain and panic and anger and hatred and bitterness and everything else that was welling up inside of him right now and making his mind slow and stupid. He stood up, and Lady Une whirled towards them, determined to trap her quarry. "Stop them!" she yelled.  
One of the soldiers raised his rifle up like a club and swung towards Duo. Before he could move, Quatre had intercepted the blow. Trowa was there and caught the boy's body before it could fall.  
"Come on!" Heero shouted from the doorway, gun in hand. He fired once and the soldier dropped down beside them.  
Between the two of them, Duo and Trowa managed to carry the fainting Quatre out the door as Heero fired carefully into the crowd. Only his chosen targets ever fell, but they both knew that even Heero would eventually make a mistake, and when he did, an innocent life would be the price.  
Quatre could barely follow what was going on. The world seemed to be spinning at an unnatural rate, and he was certain he was going to be flung off of it and into space at any moment. There was a doorway with Heero's angry face beside it, then the sound of a car's engine roared in his ears, pierced only by the occasional gunshot as Heero persuaded the more gung-ho of the OZ soldiers not to pursue. Then darkness fell over him like a velvet cloud, and Quatre slept.  
  
Somehow he knew it was a dream, and yet it seemed more real than many of his own memories. He found himself seated on a raft with Heero on a racing river. The branches beneath them were splintering, but the raft was still holding together somehow.  
"It's your decision Quatre," Heero was saying. Quatre felt light-headed, unable to focus on what was being said.  
"My decision?" he asked.  
"You can't go on in the middle. Decide Quatre. Keep the compassion that drove you to the point of insanity, or finish what your madness began for you. Become like me; callous, cruel," he paused as Quatre shook his head vehemently. "Untouchable."  
"I can't," Quatre cried, knowing even as he spoke that he was lying. "I can, but I won't."  
"Do you want to go insane again?" Heero stood up and loomed over him. The light was behind him, and his face was cast in darkness. It gave the impression of shifting, and for a moment Quatre seemed to see his own features looking back at him.  
"No!" he screamed, scrambling backwards as quickly as he could, unheeding of the edge of the raft. "I don't want to lose control, ever."  
The boat slammed into the shoreline, throwing him violently ashore. He sat up, but there was no sign of Heero. There was pain all throughout his body as he stood up and looked around. A sudden movement caught his eye and he spun to see what it was. A thin boy stood upon an outcropping of rocks, gazing at him steadfastly. He recognized himself. They stood for a moment watching one another. Then, as things are known in dreams, he realized that this was only part of himself. This was his 'humanity,' his compassion, his decency, and it was what was giving him the nightmares that dragged him from his sleep screaming. It was what had driven him over the brink of insanity. It was what made his battles hell. It was what made his life unbearable, and yet he had always clung to it, determined never to lose that which made him human, that which made him wretched.  
"You," he said quietly, walking towards the boy who looked just like him, and yet seemed so much younger, and older, if such a thing can be imagined. His face was more careworn, and he looked more exhausted than ought to have been possible, but his eyes were the eyes of an innocent child.  
"I've been waiting for you," Quatre's humanity said.  
There was a throbbing in his wrist. Quatre looked down at his hand, and found himself indifferent at the sight. His fingers had somehow forged themselves together and now formed the barrel of a gun. Why was he not more surprised at finding a weapon of murder as a part of his body?  
"I have to choose," Quatre said.  
"I know. You can't live with me. I'm killing you."  
"Yes."  
"So you have to destroy me." The boy spoke clearly, but his lower lip trembled.  
"I can't keep living like this."  
The boy raised his head. "I understand," he said.  
"So do I," Quatre replied, and raised the gun to his own head, and fired as his humanity looked on.  
  
He woke up with a gasp.  
"Hey buddy. How are you doing? That was quite a knock on the head you got!" Duo leaned across the back seat to pat him on the shoulder.  
"I'm...all right."  
Trowa glanced back at him from his place in the front seat. "Any nightmares?"  
Quatre smiled. "I think that's all over."  
"You're sure?"  
He nodded. "I killed what was making my life unbearable," he explained softly, ignoring Duo's puzzled look, and Trowa's quiet nod.  
Trowa was glad Quatre had managed. Perhaps he alone truly understood more or less what had happened. His friend hadn't been fighting a battle between good and evil; he had been deciding how he wanted to feel about the things he did. Did he want to keep the remorse that kept him awake at night and made his waking hours miserable? Or did he want to get rid of the guilt, and with it his humanity? Looking at Quatre's tired face, Trowa wasn't sure if he agreed with his friends decision. But then again, it wasn't his decision. It was Quatre's.  
Duo watched as Heero's eyes fastened on Quatre in the rear view mirror, but he couldn't read the expressions on Heero's face. It was confusion at first, but then changed to something unrecognizable. Could it be...envy? 


End file.
